


Dance of the Ancestors

by Raisintorte



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-26
Updated: 2005-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisintorte/pseuds/Raisintorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a special place reserved in hell for you McKay, you know that right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance of the Ancestors

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a few weeks ago for the skirting challenge and then the whole wedding/honeymoon thing got in the way. Kate98 helped me out tonight (she even gave me a few lines) and here it is. It's not beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

“There’s a special place reserved in hell for you McKay, you know that right?” John glared at Rodney as they made their way back to the gate.

“Yes, Yes, Colonel, fire and brimstone, eternal damnation, the devil dancing his own merry little jig on my skull, I’ve heard it all before.” Rodney smirked, “One does not become head of a prestigious science expedition by being nice to people.”

“You are the one who wanted to get into that temple so I don’t see why **I** am the one who had to put on the skirt and do the 'Dance of the Ancestors'” John glared and pointed down the short lime feathered skirt he was wearing.

“You are a Colonel now, as you so like to point out, and Colonels are the ones who are supposed to do the dangerous work and protect us scientists”

“Right, cause dancing is sooooo dangerous. Your name is _McKay_! Your people used to run around in kilts, so skirt-wearing is in your genes – it’s your heritage!”

“So are pasty white legs, and besides I’m Canadian, not Scottish, now if Beckett were here . . .”

John glared at Rodney again, “Right, and you let them burn my clothing WHY?”

“I didn’t LET them do anything Colonel, as you saw the ritual burning of the dancers clothing was an integral part of the 'Dance of the Ancestors.'” Rodney had an evil grin on his face as he glanced at John. “Who am I to interfere with their sacred ritual?”

“This is still all your fault. If you hadn’t informed them that we used to live in the City of the Ancestors, they probably would have let us go into the temple without doing the stupid dance. BUT nooo, you HAD to tell them! And here I finally thought you had learned to when to keep your mouth shut!”

“Right, I see where this is going, blame the scientist, that’s what you American military types always do you know?” Rodney glowered at John and raised his voice to a staccato tone, “When you need us it’s all ‘please Rodney, fix this, you’re the best Rodney, you can do it!’ But when something goes wrong we’re the first ones you blame ‘Stupid Rodney, it’s all YOUR fault I had to prance around half naked in a green feathered skirt’”

“Damnit Rodney, I didn’t call you stupid, and I sure as hell have never said ‘you’re the best Rodney.’ I’m just saying, you were the one who wanted to get in the temple, you were the one who told them we used to live in the City of the Ancestors, therefore you are the one who should have done the Dance.”

“Colonel, you are acting like we had a choice here, or are you conveniently forgetting that chief’s daughter took one look at your and your perfect hair and gleaming smile, and one look at pasty me stuffing my face with a power bar, and handed the ceremonial dress to you?” Rodney headed over to the DHD to begin dialing.

“Fine, no one was at fault, but could you at least lend me your jacket or SOMETHING so I don’t have to go back through the gate looking like this?”

Rodney finished dialing and turned to John smiling “And miss the looks on everyone’s face when you walk through gate looking like that?!?!? I don’t think so.”

John stared at Rodney as Rodney dragged John into the event horizon. “Special place in hell McKay, special place in hell.”


End file.
